Prompt Post Round 1
Prompts go here! This will be closed and a new post made at 3000 comments. Please link all fills to the Round 1 Fill Post.
This post is closed to new prompts! Post prompts at Round 2! Fills and comments can still be posted here.
This post is closed to new prompts! Post prompts at Round 2! Fills and comments can still be posted here.
Space pokes Morality in the face with a finger. She doesn’t even twitch.
“Hey, hey, hey. Hey. Hey lady.”
The doctor scowls. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t have to speak if she doesn’t want to.”
Space glances over at the doctor, but he can’t keep eye contact. His eyes rove the room hungrily, searching for something to center on. “What do you like about space?”
She’s answered this a hundred times. “I like the moon---”
“The moons good, yeah, I like the moon. I like, stars. And. And I like the sun. And Saturn.” He tugs at his outgrown, curly hair, a nervous habit the doctor was still trying to stop. “I’m gonna go to space!”
‘Rick’ snorts. “NASA doesn’t accept psychopaths, son.”
The doctor shoots him a warning glare.
“Gonna, yeah, gonna go to space.”
“Fact: the average adult male is susceptible to spontaneous combustion when exposed to space.”
This throws him off. Space looks at Fact briefly, blank. “That’s not true.”
Fact folds his hands in his lap. The doctor often gets the impression that he doesn’t care how his ‘facts’ are received; its as if he’s just the messenger, reciting tidbits of inaccurate trivia and watching on apathetically. “It is true. I know everything.”
“No--- no you don’t.” Space’s hands have gone from pulling on his hair to tugging his shirt, arms crossed. He can never quite look people in the eye, and the doctor knows that Fact’s listless stare frightens him the most. As it is, Space’s eyes constantly roam the room, sometimes locking on corners or at the sky with unequivocal yearning. “I’m the best at space. I can g-g-go to space whenever I want to. When ever, whenever they want me to. Its just, I’m not ready.” He rocks slightly. “They said I’m not ready.”
“He said ‘the average adult male’ is allergic to space,” Rick says, cracking his knuckles one by one. “And anyone can see that you’re not average.”
The doctor can’t tell whether Rick is trying to encourage him or antagonize him. Either way, Space ducks his head and frowns at the ground, resenting his situation or maybe just gravity.
“I gotta, gotta, gotta gotospace…”
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“What do you see?”
The wheelchair squeaks from his constant shaking. His eyes, still foggy with sleep, follow the cracks between the tiles on the floor, not even looking up.
“Hhh-hhhhggg….”
“Can you look up for me, please?”
“I don’t--- I don’t see anything!”
“Not on the ground, on the card,” the doctor says gently.
She doesn’t want to make him angry. No, she definitely doesn’t want that.
His eyes flicker up briefly, look back down at the floor again. “Its--- its nothing.”
She frowns. “Its an ink blot. All you have to do is tell me what it looks like. We’re not here to judge you---” she winces. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t know that their conversation wasn’t private. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. “---I just want to help you.”
He sighs. His voice is torn ragged from screaming, his mouth and lips dark against his sickly skin. He’s all jagged edges, wrapped up in a straight-jacket; sharp elbows and narrow shoulders. The only curve is his back, bent over himself like a wilted flower. He looks up mockingly, like he’s struggling with teenage angst rather than the suspected beginnings of critical dementia. “It doesn’t--- look like anything. This is stupid.”
The doctor takes a deep breath, tries to calm her nerves. “It may help.” It sounds pathetic, she thinks. There’s not much that can treat cognitive deterioration.
“I want to go home.”
“You can‘t go home right now,” she says. “Do you remember what happened?”
His head snaps up. Lip curls. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said you w---”
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” He struggles, trying to stand. His arms writhe like snakes in their confinements. “You’re- I don’t know who you think you are, but I heard them talking, I hear what they‘re saying and I, I KNOW what you‘re up to---”
She’s lost him. She gets up, backs away. The cards fall to the floor with a quiet slap.
“--I hhhhaven’t d-done ANYTHING WRONG, you can’t KEEP ME LIKE TTTHIS---!”
She leaves before the orderlies can pin him down.
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“I see an explosion.”
She nods, lifts another card.
“It looks like fire. Black fire. The worst kind.”
“Why is black fire the worst kind?” And you know it doesn’t exist, right?
“Its, just, look at it. It looks dangerous!”
“I’m sure black fire is as dangerous as regular fire. Lets try a new card---”
“Aww, you don‘t have to be scared of the fire, sweetheart. Rick’ll keep you safe.”
She scowls and lifts a new card. “What do you see?”
“Huh. That’s, uh, a tough one,” he scratches his chin. “Some sort of bird I guess? Or maybe--- heheh. No. Better it PG, for now.”
“Uh-huh. Well, Rick, that’s all the cards---”
“What score did I get?”
“Excuse me?”
“You know. Did I get them all right?”
“Ah, you see, its not about scores. The answer can be anything you like---”
“So what you’re saying is, I got them all wrong.”
“I never said that.”
“Can I do it again?”
She fakes a glance at her watch. “Sorry, but our time is up---”
“Come on!” He leans forward, puts on his most charming smile. She might’ve been swayed by it if he wasn’t delusional. “Just one more chance. It’ll take five seconds.”
She hesitates. Sighs, resigned. Holds up the first card. “What do you see?”
He concentrates. Squints, rubs his chin. Then he glances up.
“An explosion
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livejournal why u do this
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Also aww, exams. I feel your pain. <3
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